What, though I keep my father's sheep?
A thing that must be done
A garland of the fairest flowers
Shall shroud me from the sun a, And when I see them feeding be, Where grass and flowers spring — a, Close by a crystal fountain side,
I sit me down, and sing
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
Dame Nature crowns us with delight,
Surpassing court or city,
We pleasures take from morn to night,
In sports and pastimes pretty:
Your city dames in coaches ride
Abroad for recreation,
We country lasses hate their pride,
And keep the country fashion.
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
Your city wives lead wanton lives,
And if they come i'th' country,
They are so proud, that each one strives
For to outbrave our gentry.
We country lasses homely be;
For seat nor wall we strive not;
We are content with our degree;
Our debtors we deprive not.
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
I care not for a fan or mask,
When Titan's heat reflecteth,
A homely hat is all I ask,
Which well my face protecteth ;
Yet am I in my country guise,
Esteemèd lass as pretty,
As those that every day devise
New shapes in court and city.
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
In every season of the year
I undergo my labour,—
No shower, nor wind, at all I fear,
My limbs I do not favour;
If summer's heat my beauty stain,
It makes me ne'er the sicker,
Sith I can wash it off again
With a cup of Christmas liquor.
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
At Christmas time, in mirth and glee,
I dance with young men neatly,
And who i' th' city like to me,
Shall pleasure taste completely?
No sport, but pride and luxury
I' th' city can be found then,
But bounteous hospitality
I' th' country doth abound then.
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
I' th' Spring my labour yields delight To walk i' th' merry morning, When Flora is (to please my sight)
The ground with flowers adorning;
With merry lads to make the hay
I go, and do not grumble,
My work doth seem to be but play,
When with young men I tumble.
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
The lark and thrush from briar to bush
Do leap, and skip and sing-a,
And all is then to welcome in
The long and look'd for Spring — a;
We fear not Cupid's arrows keen,
Dame Venus we defy — a,
Diana is our honour'd queen,
And her we magnify-a.
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
That which your city damsels scorn,
We hold our chiefest jewel,
Without, to work at hay and corn,
Within, to bake and brew well;
To keep the dairy decently,
And all things clean and neatly,
Your city minions do defy,-
Their scorn we weigh not greatly.
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
When we together a milking go
With pails upon our heads.
And walking over woods and fields,
Where grass and flowers spread — a,
In honest pleasure we delight,
Which makes our labour sweet And mirth exceeds on every side When lads and lassies meet- a. Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
Then do not scorn a country lass,
Though she be plain and meanly,
Who takes a country wench to wife
(That goeth neat and cleanly)
Is better sped, than if he wed
A fine one from the city;
For there they are so nicely bred,
They must not work for pity.
Down, down, derry, derry down, etc.
I speak not this to that intent
(As some may well conjecture),
As though to wooing I were bent,—
No, I ne'er learn'd Love's lecture;
But what I sing is in defence
Of all plain country lasses,
Whose modest, honest innocence
All city girls surpasses.
Down, down, derry, derry down,
Heigh down, a down, a down a,
A derry, derry, derry, derry down,
Heigh down, a down, a derry.
"This beautiful address to conjugal love," says
Bishop Percy, "a subject too much neglected
by the libertine Muses, was, I believe, first
printed in a volume of Miscellaneous Poems,
by Several hands, published by D. Lewis,
1726, 800'."
The authorship is unknown,
though it has been ascribed, probably errone-
ously, to Gilbert Cooper.
WAY; let nought to love displeasing,
My Winifreda, move your care;
Let nought delay the heavenly blessing,
Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy fear.
What though no grants of royal donors
With pompous titles grace our blood;
We'll shine in more substantial honors,
And to be noble we'll be good.
Our name, while virtue thus we tender,
Will sweetly sound where e'er 't is spoke;
And all the great ones they shall wonder
How they respect such little folk.
What though from fortune's lavish bounty
No mighty treasures we possess ;
We'll find within our pittance plenty,
And be content without excess.
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